Saturday morning came all too soon for Simon. Today he had mixed feelings as he headed to Roanoke and Ginni. There was nothing he wanted more than to sit in her room and talk. He had so much to tell her, to explain. He loved her. She meant everything to him and nothing that happened before mattered. But he also didn’t want to see her in that state. Somewhere between death and life, she was there but she wasn’t and it broke his heart.
He bade Jody and his mom a cheerful goodbye and jumped in her used Ford Mercury. The car was 20 years old but she had taken very good care of it, like she did with everything which was hers.
Within the hour Simon was walking into the assisted living facility where Ginni lived. “Lived”, he thought dismissively. “Housed is more like it. Stored away like a box of old papers that were just important enough to not throw away. If she were mine I’d have her at home where she belonged. I’d take care of her.”
He knew these thoughts were irrational. Ginni’s parents loved her dearly and were doing the best they could for her. That didn’t make it any easier though. Therapists called this the anger stage in dealing with grief. And he sure was angry.
He knocked gently on the half-closed door of room 17. There was no answer so he pushed it open slowly. Walking in, he found a nurse checking on Ginni’s vitals.
“Oh, hello. Are you family to Miss Shelton?”
“We dated for a while at school. I just wanted to come see her.”
Simon wasn’t sure why he needed to explain himself to the attendant. Perhaps an inner respect for authority was the reason. Of course, if that were the case he never would have hacked into the police car’s computerized siren and made it play Mary had a little lamb. No, deep down he was envious of these people who got to spend so much time with her, protecting and caring for her. He wanted to earn their respect and approval.
“Is it okay if I sit with her a while?”
“Of course. I’ve just finished tending to her and she won’t need turning for another hour.”
“Turning?” Simon asked in confusion.
A look of great sadness washed the older woman’s face. “People in her condition need to be turned every couple hours so they don’t develop bedsores. It’s one of the hardest things about my job; seeing a person so helpless.”
She straightened herself and wiped away a fine sheen of tears. “Forgive me, but she is so young and beautiful. This time should be the most fun of her life. At least she has family and people who love her. Some of the residents never get visitors. They just slowly fade into the background. Well, have a nice visit and…encourage her to be strong. The doctors might disagree but I know she can hear you.”
He settled into the small hard-backed chair at her bedside. There was dead silence until the nurse left with a light click of the door. He looked closely at her face. There were the same full lips, smooth clear skin and thick luxurious hair pulled out into pony tails. He got the distinct impression that the nurse had applied some make-up and done her hair, just in case someone came to call. He was grateful. The woman he loved now appeared to be asleep rather than barely hanging on to a kind of pseudo-life.
“Ginni”, he whispered. “Ginni, if you can hear me. It’s Simon. I came to see how you’re doing.” Suddenly all the things he wanted to say, all the grand truths and proclamations of love and devotion were just so much wind. She lay there unmoving and nothing he could do or say would change that. It was all meaningless. His head bowed in defeat. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.
After indulging in selfish despair for a few minutes Simon began to pull his emotions back together. Reality broke into his consciousness. What had he expected, that the sound of his voice would rouse her from the coma? That only happens in cheap books and cheaper movies.
With a deep sigh he announced, “Okay. Ginni, I am so sorry I yelled at you. If you really are hearing this, I love you and I want to marry you. Someday you are going to wake up and when you do I will be waiting. We can fix whatever problems we have because I know you love me, too.” He reached into his coat pocket and removed a small jewelry box. Attached to it was a note that read:
Dear Ginni,
Ever since we were kids I have longed to be your friend. There has never been a happier time for me than those months we spent together. I want that to last forever. When you can read this for yourself, know that I will be ready to welcome you with open arms. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness.
-Your friend
Simon Peters
“Nothing left to do now but go see a Priest”, he said to himself sardonically. He still wasn’t completely convinced that Nachton was telling him the truth. But then he couldn’t imagine a single reason why he would lie either.
‘As long as it helps Ginni. As long as it helps Ginni’ was the incantation he kept repeating.
Simon had never been to Washington D.C. before. It was a bit silly since he only lived a couple hours away. But momma was working all the time and he didn’t care much about history. Now that he was here with a purpose, he had neither time nor patience for anything but finding that Priest.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He kept yelling as he wandered all over D.C. looking for either 14th street or Quincy. Simon had forgotten to check online for directions to the monastery. Finally in desperation he stopped into a gas station and bought a guide to the Capitol’s streets. One look and he knew how bad it was. He was on the wrong side of the river in the completely wrong part of town. Anger built up inside him. For no reason at all Simon felt he had to get this done quickly and time was running out.
He turned the car to the northeast and eventually found 12th street. A couple blocks over put him on 14th and then…there it was: Mount St. Sepulchre Franciscan Monastery. He felt a rush of anticipation and danger while looking at the edifice. There was nothing sinister about it. Quite the contrary, it held an air of peace and beauty. The grounds were immaculate. Its buildings well cared for. The place had a sense of timelessness, as if one could simply walk through the gates and escape from the world for a few hours.
He parked at St. Francis hall and crossed the narrow street to the front gates. There was a large sign proclaiming the site and inviting visitors to stroll the grounds or sign up for tours, including the catacombs which were constructed in the likeness of those under Rome itself. Simon’s heart gave a leap. “He must be here. Oh Lord, let him be here.”
At the main office he joined a group of tourists from California who were just about to set off for the underground maze. Skills honed during years of slightly nefarious adventures would serve him well now as he kept a low profile in the middle of the crowd. Their guide never really noticed Simon and so it would be easier to sneak off later and not be missed.
He even managed to ask a question from behind an older man’s head, “Have you ever heard of a Priest named DePraeco? He used to serve in my parish but was moved. I was told he lives here now.”
Their guide looked at the other man carefully and then replied, “None of the monks keep their birth names when they enter here. They are rechristened as a part of their new lives. I am called Brother Clarence though my parents named me Steven.” The man paused to chortle lightly, “I’m not sure I came out ahead on that one.”
Once in the dark passageways Simon felt a kind of sick hopelessness. “These things must run for miles in all directions”, he thought. There were side tunnels, rooms, galleries and lofts everywhere. Along the walls he saw frescos and carved hallows for the remains of saints as well as niches of various sizes for lamps and miscellaneous items.
“These are a copy of the catacombs beneath Rome. The originals are over 900 miles long. Ours are substantially smaller but then…” he said with a wink, “no one has ever explored all of the secret passages.”
They moved slowly but deliberately, taking in all the sights. The experience was mildly interesting to Simon and he may have enjoyed it more but there was something he needed to do.
“Please hurry, we must make our way over to the grotto before you leave. It is a most pleasant sight.” Brother Clarence was preoccupied with finishing this duty and ushered them through a series of sharp turns. Seeing his chance Simon hung back and didn’t make the last corner. The torch light faded quickly, but he didn’t move until the last echoes had died away. Then for the first time since Nachton’s death he pulled out his stone.
It was as deep and spectacular a red as the moment it had gushed forth from the magician’s body. The soft glow it always gave was enough for Simon to see by. He stepped around the corner and was immediately faced with a fork in the path.
“Which way?” he idly said. Trusting to luck he chose the right hand passage and was surprised to see the stone flare brightly. It illuminated the floor so well that he no longer tripped on the stone plinths that stuck out, each bearing the statue of some Saint or Martyr.
“You going to guide me now?” he asked the stone. He was beginning to believe that this thing could understand him. As if in answer it dimmed slightly and then brightened even more than before.
“Whoa!” was all he could say. As if he needed any more convincing there was something special here.
Deeper and deeper into the catacombs the stone led him. Simon was acutely aware that the road on his quest was being lit by the very thing he wanted to destroy.
He noticed a distinctly rougher quality to the tunnels the further he walked. There was also little doubt that these tunnels were not on the usual tour route as more of them had real bodies on the stone beds set into the walls. There were also words carved into the rock. Most of them were scriptural references but also the occasional call for God to curse the wicked and smite the enemies of the righteous.
Simon had long since lost his way and knew that without help he would never get out. Still, he tried to watch for unique features that might at least point him back. One such was an overly large head carved in the wall. It had a kindly but faintly maniacal face with a large crack running down across the forehead, under the left eye and nose, and fading at the right jaw line.
As if bidden to do so by Fate itself he traced the scar with his finger. Suddenly the eyes opened to reveal piercing yellow light that flooded the corridor. A soft cultured voice escaped the stone lips, “What are you doing here alone? Where is the guide?”
Simon jumped back and his stone blazed angrily, filling the room with light. The combination of red and yellow created a peaceful natural light.
“I…I am seeking for Friar Giuseppe DePraeco.”
The face de-animated and a door opened in the wall a few steps down. Simon swallowed hard, steeled his nerves and entered.
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